


To Those Who Wait

by thermochromatic



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sweetness, feel good fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 01:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thermochromatic/pseuds/thermochromatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd been in that first touch, soft and simple, and Mike can't seem to forget it, even after all these years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Those Who Wait

**Author's Note:**

> First fic, favorite ship. We'll see how it goes. Could always do with some more EruMike, after all.

The first time their fingers had brushed and tangled together Mike thought he’d imagined the little squeeze, and the smile that’d followed. He’d been too caught up in trying to get a breath back in his lungs, the torn skin on shoulders burning right along with his nose as the dust rose, dry and flat where his elbow had scraped against the hard ground, and he’d been unable to fully take in the softness that shouldn’t have been in Erwin’s expression as the man stared down at him.

He hadn’t known what it was at the time and it was only later, face pushed under the cool water as he tried to rid the scrapes of the grainy discomfort that he paused to think about it.

Erwin hadn’t been a man at the time, too soft around the cheeks, his eyes too bright, but Mike still remembered his expression with startling clarity – the usual mask he’d put in place even then, polite and neutral, had gained something he could only describe as ‘warm’. It’d left him shuffling back into the freezing spray to hide the heat on his cheeks and, somehow, it’d become one of his favorite memories; for a handful of reasons that’d only grown over the years.

The touches came slowly but steadily after that – a hand on his shoulder as Erwin sat down in the chow hall, their elbows brushing together as they passed each other in the barracks or jogging down the stairs, or in the showers – but it’d taken him too long to realize that something was off, that something important had changed somewhere between that first introduction and their second year of training.

He’d been too slow and missed his opportunity because of it.

The touches though, even years later, had yet to cease and Mike bit the inside of his cheek automatically – a habit he’d long since mastered, something simple to stave off the heat that seemed intent on coloring his skin even though he was long passed the age where that was appropriate – when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and the chair beside his scraped against the wooden floor.

“Morning,” Erwin greeted, taking his seat as he glanced over and gave Mike the usual smile. It was a difficult thing to describe, softer than anything that came after the man had gotten a cup of coffee in his system, but normal enough and, secretly, Mike liked to think it was a smile Erwin reserved just for him.

More often than not he found himself wondering just when he’d become so fanciful.

“Morning,” he murmured, forcing himself to keep steady, refusing to drift any closer to the man when he scooted his chair forward and reached for a bowl of oatmeal and an apple.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mm.” _Ever the polite one_ , Mike thought, as he slid a white mug toward Erwin’s outstretched hand, paused mid-air in its quest, as he covered a yawn with the other.

Their fingers brushed – the first touch of the day – and Mike busied himself with pouring the coffee to hide a smile.

It was an old routine, familiar and comfortable, and he dropped two cubes of sugar and a splash of milk into the cup before mixing it carefully. Erwin liked sweets, unwilling to drink the coffee black and bitter first thing in the morning, but he didn’t like it overdone, preferring it just smooth enough that it wasn’t heavy, but wasn’t too jarring either.

Mike liked making it. He was good at it, able to judge whether the sugar was packed tightly or loosely, with too much air and too few grains. On days like that, he added a third, and a little less milk, then stirred until the crystals had dissolved and the smell coming off the mug had softened just enough that it’d suit the man’s tastes. Rationally, Mike knew it was an odd habit. _Rationally_ , he knew it wasn’t his place to take care of the man, friend or otherwise, and that he wasn’t required to cater to something so frivolous, but a lot of what he did around Erwin recently was beginning to seem more than a little irrational.

He knew what kept him at it though, and occasionally he found himself asking just when he’d become so prone to acting like a school girl. Just because Erwin had asked him, once upon a time when they’d first made their homes within the Scouting Legion, didn’t mean he _had_ to. Yet, whenever the opportunity arose, Mike found himself readily keeping with a promise he’d never made.

‘ _Perfect’_ , Erwin had called it, and Mike doubted he’d ever forget.

Still, he supposed the only saving grace was that no one asked after it, most of their comrades too used to such an occurrence to bother with it, and anyone that wasn’t was too young, too new to openly question their superior so blatantly about something so personal.

Sometimes, he wished they would.

Perhaps then he’d stop.

Mike passed the mug off and reached for another when it was lifted out of his hand. He listened quietly as Erwin took a sip and took a deep breath, ignoring everything but the way the fresh bite of the coffee mixed with something just a bit lighter, smooth and musky that spoke of heat and comfort, blankets and relaxation.

He loved that scent – completely Erwin, and only found in the quiet moments shared before the day began.

It was hard to determine Erwin’s usual scent. Before Mike had known him, he’d wondered if this person just didn’t have any markers that he could pick out, if maybe it’d be a reprieve from the rest of the world that bombarded him with small tells, overpowering scents, and insight into their lives he didn’t want.

He’d been wrong though. Erwin did have a smell, it was simply subtle – too subtle to pick up without the long hours of sleep and the cloth that wrapped around him to make itself known. There was something teasing about it, neither gentle nor overbearing, and natural enough to pass as just another taste in the air that it was hard to detect under the mix of everyday life.

Subconsciously, Mike shifted closer to the edge of his chair.

“I need you to assist with hand-to-hand instruction this afternoon,” Erwin began, tossing Mike an apologetic smile. “I’m aware that it’s not your favorite thing to do, but Hanji is insisting that Moblit requires her presence no later than noon for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“I understand.” It would be a hassle to rearrange the schedules of more than one squad and Mike was flexible, skilled, the obvious choice.

“Thank you.” That hand found his shoulder again and gave a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate your help.”

He knew he should respond but managed little more than a nod, Erwin’s hand leaving the same burn it always did even through the cotton of his shirt. It was a feeling Mike had thought he’d get used to but never did. He’d spend the next three hours feeling the touch as if it were against his skin, lingering and warm, and though he knew it was mostly his imagination, the knowledge didn’t stop the tightness that would inevitably pull at his chest when Erwin let go.

“Mike?”

He blinked, the deep color of the coffee coming into focus once again and Mike glanced to the side.

_Irrational_ , he reminded himself.  

Erwin’s head was tipped just slightly, jaw tight even as he pushed a small questioning smile forward and Mike could smell the concern rolling off of him, cool but potent and throwing off the mix that had been perfectly balanced.

“Erwin.”

Erwin’s lips twitched. “Did you even hear what I asked you?”

Mikes eyes darted down to the hand still resting on his shoulder, along the man’s wrist and up his arm to his face. He could feel Erwin’s fingers sliding over the nape of his neck, subtly brushing over the short hair there, and his fingers tightened around the mug.

“No,” he answered truthfully and Erwin laughed, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go.

“Let’s eat.” Erwin lifted his spoon and took a bite, smiling around it as the chair across from him was pulled out and Hanji fell against the table.

Whatever Erwin had asked didn’t come up again, but Mike could still smell the concern there, lingering behind the wave of fresh apples and cinnamon that Hanji brought with her in the mornings.

He couldn’t help but feel that, once again, he’d been too late.

. . . . .

“Enough.”

When Mike called for a stop the training field went still, the flurry of motion it’d been coming to a sudden halt as he paused and looked over the recruits before adjusting Connie’s stance with his boot, nudging the inside of the boy’s foot.

“Shoulder width,” he murmured, stepping away when Connie nodded. “Swap partners.”

His command was followed without question and he briefly wondered if this was how Erwin felt when he was dishing out orders.

Mike doubted it.

“Begin.”

Erwin was long past the satisfaction that simple instructions brought, spoiled by the understanding that the Scouts would follow without question, no matter the circumstances. He was used to getting his way, trusted that it would happen without hesitation, and Mike let the comfort the thought brought him settle deep in his chest.

It was encouraging, and as Mike circled the field, stopping to correct flaws and offer advice when he felt it was warranted, he found himself relaxing into the routine.

It was a still day, warm but not unbearable, and though the scent of sweat rose, heightened by the lack of breeze, it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it might be. The recruits were working hard, focused as they could be, but Mike had never really understood where the fault was in enjoying practicing one’s skills to improve. He’d always excelled in this form of combat, trusting his fists more than anything else when he’d first entered the training camp. Back then, it’d been all he’d had, and the thought that it wasn’t enjoyable for everyone else hadn’t crossed his mind before then.

“You look like you’re having fun.”

Mikes shoulders tightened with surprise, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides as his head snapped to the right. Erwin’s smile was light, playful, and far too smug for Mike’s liking.

He found it difficult to be annoyed and the thought bugged him, just another thing on the list of irrational reactions that’d been stirred up in him recently.

Mike tamped down the huff threatening to slip out and merely grunted in response, turning away to continue down the line.

“They’re looking good,” Erwin continued, easily falling into step at his side. “I may have to ask that you continue with them. Hanji has other things to do, after all and I’m sure Moblit would prefer to remain in the lab where it’s a possibility of being somewhat… more focused. ”

“Focused.”

He heard Erwin’s laugh, low and soft, and forced himself to keep his eyes forward.

“It could happen.”

“Are we talking about the same person?” Mike asked, nodding when Reiner landed a solid hit and Jean went stumbling backward. It was unlikely that any of them would ever be able to understand Hanji’s methods, though Mike wasn’t about to dismiss madness being the full method. Still, Gunther usually took care of the first month’s training, then brought the others in to join for the weekly practice. It was a good exercise, even if hand-to-hand combat wasn’t something any of them would be using against a titan. It built trust, respect, and most importantly, and understanding of their teammates movements. “Arms in, Kirschtein.”

“Yes, sir!”

Erwin smiled, setting a hand on Jean’s shoulder briefly as they passed. “It’s quite possible,” he replied. “Eyes forward, Sasha. Don’t look away from your opponent when there’s only one.”

“Sir!”

“Why was she scheduled?”

“Jeager.”

Mike nodded, his eyes darting toward where Erwin’s hand dropped off of Jean’s shoulder and he frowned.

Turning away, he glanced across the field, pointedly seeking Eren out at the far corner, hands up and on the defensive, as he pushed aside the curling weight sinking in his stomach. “Observation.”

“She seemed to think learning more about Eren’s movements in this form might be useful in teaching him how to fight properly as a Titan.”

“Mm.”

It was a solid assumption, practical. He could see where the idea had come from and the potential it had to make an impact on Eren’s combat.

However…

“Mike.”

The softness of Erwin’s tone, quiet but open and obvious, made him pause, briefly stalling the heavy feeling in his gut for just a moment. A warm hand settled on his shoulder as Erwin stepped around, leaning into Mike’s line of sight and he glanced over, taking a short, slow breath that told him little more than how badly their newest members were in need of a shower.

“There’s something bothering you.”

Erwin’s brow furrowed, the same concern from this morning leaking into the air around them and Mike forced himself to nod toward the group before them. “They smell.”

“They weren’t at breakfast.”

Mike felt his jaw tighten, along with the grip on his shoulder.

It was stupid to lie to Erwin, and not something he would consider doing to begin with, no matter how little the lie. Their relationship, like most others in the Scouts, was built on trust, but he couldn’t deny that, for the first time, he was almost tempted to weigh his options anyway.

He didn’t know what to say – to Erwin or himself – or how to explain the bad taste that’d suddenly filled his mouth when Erwin had set a hand on Kirschtein’s shoulder. He couldn’t explain that it the touch was too familiar and made the air tart with a jealousy he didn’t understand and refused to claim as his own. He didn’t want to explain it, even had he been able, and Mike found himself just standing there, unsure but unable to look away.

Erwin watched carefully and Mike followed suit, mentally scratching off the markers that very few of them could pick out in the Commander – concern, the list of questions, the hesitation reserved only for certain people or the right moment, the decisive point where Erwin made his decision on whether to push or to let it go, and Mike held his breath.

No questions came though. Erwin nodded after a long moment and Mike’s nose curled before he could stop it at the hollow, dry scent that filled the air between them.

Disappointment – his stomach lurched, the knots tightening and his nails bit into his palms.

Why… was this all coming out now?

Was he tired? He didn’t feel strained – no more than usual. He was content with his work  and certainly with the progress he’d seen today, so—

“I must have been mistaken,” Erwin murmured, that smile still in place as a wave of sadness, gentle and dusky, wafted from him. The man’s eyes searched his face, darting from side to side and Mike watched the muscles in his cheeks pull as his jaw tightened.

_Don’t_.

Erwin was giving him an opening. He’d played the game enough to know when it was his turn, but he still didn’t have any words, not even enough to catch in his throat and force him to remain silent.

He’d learned a long time ago that words, no matter how simple, didn’t just magically appear – not for him.

Erwin turned then, taking the silence as some sort of answer. He stepped away, the crunch of his boots on the gravel too loud even with the activity going on beside them, and Mike’s breath felt short. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

_Wait_.

He needed to do something.

He was tired of sitting quietly, but being silent was something he’d grown comfortable with.

With Erwin, he’d never needed words. The man had picked up on every cue, every subtle gesture, since they’d met and, at some point, he’d come to rely on that.

Yet, for all his own observation, it seemed that Mike was the one that’d read the tells incorrectly.

Had Erwin always looked at him like that?

Had he always been so warm, so inviting?

And had Mike really been so intent on ignoring the acrid stench of his own fear that he’d chosen to ignore it, feigning ignorance?

There were no guarantees in life, save for fear and meeting an end one way or another. Anyone that stepped outside the walls came to understand that simple fact very quickly. They risked their lives and if they were lucky enough to survive their first trip, they’d never forget that moment of realization. It was what defined them, and what haunted them.

Understanding the risks and accepting him – that’s what they were about, not the fear that brought on the realization, and Mike stepped forward.

“Wait.”

On impulse, he reached out, gripping Erwin’s fingers between his own before he could stop himself, heart pounding loud and harsh in his ears. He squeezed, gently at first, but tighter as the warmth of Erwin’s hand seeped into his skin and Mike let his thumb trail over his knuckles, just for a moment.

He knew he needed to step back quickly, before his actions were noticed. He knew that the touch was ill-timed and inappropriate when more than a few of the new recruits were standing so close, waiting for instruction that could come at any time.

It was unseemly, Mike told himself, incorrect, but his feet refused to move and his fingers refused to let go.

He was out of line.

He was embarrassing his commander, but more importantly his friend.

Yet it was hard to cling to those excuses when his hand was tugged, gentle but demanding before he felt Erwin’s fingers lace with his and the man cleared his throat, the sound startling Mike more than it should have, as he looked toward the recruits.

“Dismissed,” Erwin said simply, and for a moment Mike didn’t think they would move. It likely only took a second, though it felt like a lifetime, and Erwin gave another tug that pulled him closer, had him following automatically. Memories of being called a dog, a mutt, surfaced but were quickly snuffed out by the recruit’s collective shout of ‘sir’ before scattering, hurrying off in a group of chatter and subdued excitement.

Mike listened, silent and shamelessly using their retreat as an excuse to keep his eyes directed somewhere else until the sounds died off, the crunch of their boots fading after a minute or two, and the silence stretched between them.

And still, he didn’t know what to say.

An apology would be the obvious answer, but it stuck on the tip of his tongue and he knew without question that Erwin wasn’t looking for an apology. He was neither angry, nor upset, and when Mike finally swallowed his hesitation and turned to look at him, he paused.

Erwin was smiling yet again, but this time a soft, simple smile that warmed his eyes and Mike felt that heat well up in his chest all over again.

“Why now?” Erwin wondered aloud.

It didn’t sound like a question Mike was supposed to answer. He doubted he could have anyway, and kept his mouth shut as Erwin closed the distance between them, stopping when they were face to face, barely an inch apart.

“Why now,” he repeated, and Mike drew a slow breath when Erwin’s hand pressed to his chest. His palm slid up, settling against Mike’s shoulder as that same, familiar warmth rose around them, heady and spiced with something unique, and Mike leaned down.

It was there again, just along the curve of Erwin’s neck.

He smelled like the morning, like soft smiles, and that first touch of the day, like the sheets he slept on and the faint tang of the lemons used to freshen the laundry, and everything else that made Mike’s stomach twist into knots.

He smelled like home and all the things Mike had ever found himself wanting for.

“Felt right,” he murmured honestly and his face warmed when Erwin laughed.

“I see…”

Erwin’s fingers were rubbing over his neck, shifting the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t press or pull, silently conveying that it was Mike’s move, that _he_ would decide what the next step was.

It was something he was both grateful for and irrationally wished that Erwin had taken away.

With Erwin, everything was a gamble. He held his cards close and had a talent for raising the stakes quickly, whether it was intentional or not. It was almost a relief knowing that someone else was calling the shots, but that wasn’t happening this time and Mike held tight to the hand in his to keep his fingers from shaking.

Again, the silence stretched, taut between them.

He was wasting time and it was almost amusing. There was only one option really, one scenario, and Mike pressed forward, looping an arm around the man’s waist to pull them flush against each other. His nose bumped against soft skin, his eyes closing as Erwin’s arms wrapped around his neck and a soft hum rumbled in his chest. A hand came up to cup the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair, and Mike sighed when he felt Erwin’s weight leaning fully against him.

“It was worth the wait,” the man whispered, the words soft, almost mumbled against his shoulder, and for a moment Mike wasn’t sure he’d really heard them right.

_Worth the wait…_

Was it really?

And for how long, he wondered, had Erwin been waiting?

The memory of that first touch, a little faded around the edges, but still bright and hot in his mind, rose quickly and Mike’s hold in the man’s shirt tightened.

Had it really been that long?

Had he really been that blind…?

_Yes_.

Somehow, he had.

He slid a hand up Erwin’s side, ducking under his jacket before moving back down in what he hoped was a gentle rhythm as he pressed a kiss against the smooth curve of the man’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Mike murmured and Erwin shook his head, his hold tightening around Mike’s neck. “Thank you.”

“Mike?”

_Thank you for waiting._


End file.
